Burn My Dread
by TheSilentPen
Summary: "Nothing had been normal since she arrived in this godforsaken city and enrolled in McKinley University. She should've gotten back on the train the minute she stepped off." Rachel's known about the Dark Hour for years. The world goes silent and people cease to exist. It's somewhat peaceful. In Lima, Ohio, however, the Dark Hour is anything but quiet. AU oneshot.


**A/N: **Long time no write, everyone. I haven't had the time to write very often, so now that I've managed to scrape a little time away, I wanted to write something I'd enjoy. I decided to return to my roots somewhat by tinging my writing with a hint of video game universe. Since I recently got to spend some time with Persona 3, I wrote this. This is a Glee AU oneshot with the flavor of Persona 3.

If you're hoping for this to have Glee's current characters, I'm sorry to disappoint-I stopped watching Glee shortly into its third season. All the characters in here? Purely from Season One.

You don't need to be familiar with Persona series to read this oneshot-I'm a huge fan of the series' storytelling, so I adapted Persona 3's story to Glee's world. Hopefully you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you're familiar with my regular work, this is much more action heavy than I thought it might be, but hey, Persona (and that's where my bread and butter USED to be-fight heavy sequences).

This oneshot might serve as a jumping off point for an ENTIRE fic based in this universe. It really depends on how much time I have (which isn't very much). The song I wrote it to is **Burn My Dread** by the amazing Shoji Meguro.

Also **TRIGGER WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS REFERENCES TO SUICIDE (no one commits suicide, but the characters' methods of fighting involve suggestions of suicide) AND VIOLENCE**. If you're squeamish, you won't want to read this. Characters fight, blood is spilt, limbs are hacked off, Etc. **THIS IS YOUR WARNING**.

Recently opened a gaming tumblr, link on my profile page.

Let me know what you think at the end!.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee, Persona, or any of its characters, nor do I own the song 'Burn My Dread' by the fantastic Shoji Meguro for which this fic is named.

* * *

**Burn My Dread**

_TheSilentPen_

* * *

Her finger trembled against the trigger.

Rachel's mouth felt dry as cotton, her throat struggling to swallow. A terrible heat plagued her. Sweat beaded on her forehead and dripped in steady patterns down her cheeks.

The pistol's metal felt cool against her temple. The rapier clasped in her left hand had long since adjusted to the heat of her body. Its edge sang and shrieked against the ground as her hand shook around its hilt.

The full moon's cruel light pierced her eyes, turned a murky, menacing yellow in the night's green haze. The calm breeze that graced the treetops moments before had gone, leaving the proud pines surrounding the dorm hauntingly still.

A grotesque creature towered over Rachel, slowly trapping her near the edge of the building. Its body, comprised of twisting, writhing shadows, stank of iron and decay. The monster slithered across the stone, tentacle-like arms dragging its heavy form closer. A single mask carved in the form of a screaming man hid its features from Rachel's frightened gaze.

Rachel took a single step back, polished black dress shoes slipping in pools of crimson liquid marring the dorm rooftop's once austere white granite facing. She fought her gag reflex as the beast's scent fought its way into her nostrils.

'_How did I get here?_' Rachel thought numbly. She shook as the creature let out a roar. It sounded of shrieking metal and a thousand men screaming. _'What is __**happening**__ to me?'_

* * *

Nothing had been normal since she arrived in this godforsaken city and enrolled in goddamned McKinley University. She should've gotten back on the train the minute she stepped off.

In New York, _those _nights occurred. Time stood still for an eternity and the world slept. For those brief moments, Time Square's bright lights died and the cacophony of ever present sound stole from its streets. People's eyes fell shut and they transformed into the dark silhouette of death—coffins standing in pools of sticky, crimson blood.

The first time it'd happened, she was eight years old.

Her Fathers had recently passed away—lost in a freak accident in some backwater city in Ohio. She could barely remember her days there—she'd only lived there a month.

Her Papa had been assigned to work there for Fabray Corp. as a researcher in their science department. The family temporarily moved from the bustling city of New York into Lima, Ohio where the lab was located.

The night they died, Rachel and her Daddy had been driving home from her friend, Noah's, house.

Daddy needed to work longer at the office that day to prepare the brief for an upcoming case. After school, Noah's mom watched her for several hours. She'd put Rachel down to bed and meant to keep her till morning.

But Daddy wanted to surprise her and come straight from the office to get her. He went into the room, wrapped her in blankets, and cradled her against his broad chest as he carried her to the car.

He settled Rachel into the back seat, still wrapped in her blankets, and started the short drive home.

She remembered him humming beneath his breath and the smile on his lips. The radio'd been playing _'What a Wonderful World'_ on the late night jazz station.

Rachel scoffed when she thought of it now. How terribly ironic.

There'd been a terrible rumble, tires squealing, mixed with the horrid sound of crushing glass.

The last sound she heard would haunt her forever.

The sound of her Daddy's voice, usually so soft and soothing, wrought with horrid fear and worry as he screamed her name over the litany of noise.

All was dark.

When she woke in a starch white room with masked figures speaking softly over her body, she'd been puzzled. Scared.

What had happened? Where was Daddy?

A nurse told her what happened.

Daddy had been found crumbled face down on the steering wheel, trapped in the twisted metal sculpture of his car. The shockwaves from the Fabray Corp. lab made the car's tires lose traction on the road, sending him barreling into a pine tree. He died as the car made impact.

Rachel, curiously, had been found outside the wreckage, wrapped in the tattered remains of her blanket. Outside of a few cuts and bruises, she had been relatively uninjured.

'What about Papa?' she asked, bundling her blankets between her fingers. Surely he was here for her? Perhaps the cafeteria, gone to get that Italian Ice he loved.

The nurse's eyes grew pained, her smile falling as her voice lowered.

Papa… her Papa was never found. The lab was so badly burned, there was nothing left to save. Not a single scrap of paper, glass. A body.

Rachel was alone.

Rachel did not cry, _could_ not cry, even as the nurse pressed her into a comforting hug.

There was a terrible numbness that fell about her. Nothing hurt—not the IV, nor the broken wrist, nor any of her cuts and bruises.

She felt nothing.

Tears did not leave her eyes until the nurse changed Rachel's bag of painkillers and left her alone.

Then the numbness fled from her chest. She pressed her face into her pillow and cried the night away.

After being released from the hospital, Noah's mother took over her care while Child Services searched for the closest living relative.

A month after the accident, Rachel was taken away from the Puckerman household and forced into a cramped and sterile room at the local police station.

Sitting in a chair across from a counselor, a young woman dressed in ragged jeans and a sweater sat, chewing her lip nervously. As Rachel entered, the woman looked up and turned toward her nervously.

Rachel studied the woman's features and saw the familiar shape of her nose, the almond shape of her eyes, the dark chocolate hue of her hair… all things Rachel, herself, possessed.

If Rachel were ten years older, she was sure she'd look like this woman.

Shelby Corcoran, Rachel's biological mother, was a twenty-six year old post-grad student at Columbia. With Papa's parents dead and Daddy's parents _denying_ Rachel's existence, Shelby was the closest thing to family Rachel still possessed.

She adopted Rachel several months after the funeral and moved them to New York.

Things quickly went south. Shelby moved out of her studio located near the university and into a ramshackle apartment large enough to house her and her daughter. She worked two jobs in addition to class in order to feed and clothe both of them.

This meant leaving Rachel at her Aunt's house after she got out of school, coming to get her late at night after Shelby finished worked for the day.

One night, as Rachel stared down at the ground and clung to her mother's hand, pushing through a busy crosswalk, it happened for the first time.

The lights in the city dulled and dropped out, advertisements going silent. Darkness' inky filter tinged to a harsh green.

Rachel felt Shelby's hand melt away, leaving her hand lonely. Her eyes shifted quickly from the ground to her mother, expecting brown eyes and an exasperated smile.

A scream tore from her lips as she found herself staring at the dark mahogany surface of a coffin.

She went wild with panic, eyes darting to and fro. "Mama!" She yelled, running through row after cluttered row of coffins. "Mama, where are you?!"

Her voice echoed, bouncing along the skyscrapers.

Rachel turned her eyes skyward. The full moon loomed overhead, haloed by wisps of cloud. Its light shone down, revealing row upon gruesome row of coffins, aligned in mockery of the dead city's hustle and bustle.

She stood, unable to tear her eyes away from its horrid magnificence. It seemed to beckon her forward, call to her.

The moment faded as suddenly as it came.

Lights flickered back on, sound boomed into existence, and the crowd jostled her once more.

Shelby screamed for Rachel from somewhere in the crowd, pushing through the passersby to force her way to her daughter. Her brown eyes were wet with tears as she scolded Rachel, pressing her to her shoulder.

Perhaps it was a dream. Rachel shook in Shelby's arms. Perhaps it wouldn't occur again.

But it had, every night after that. The lights dimmed, the world grew silent, and coffins lined the streets.

Every night, Rachel would hide.

She'd crouch down beneath her blankets or fall to her knees and shut her eyes until the moment passed.

The older she grew, however, the less it phased her.

She learned that nothing occurred during those nights—the world merely slept for a moment, then continued ceaselessly into the future.

By the time she turned eighteen, Rachel was no longer disturbed by the coffins, the blood. Not even the persistent moon, which forever haunted the horizon with some sort of dreaded promise, bothered her.

…But _those_ nights were stronger here, in Lima, Ohio.

On her first night back in town she'd seen… _someone_.

She stepped off the train, bag over her shoulder and headphones stuffed into her ears. Her watch ticked down the last seconds into _that_ time and the lights at the station were extinguished as the music died in her ears.

As she began the trek to her dorm, she saw _something_.

A slight shadow that came and went as she searched the horizon. A blur of red, white, and black.

She'd called out, unplugged her headphones and waited for someone to come forward. But the night remained as silent as ever, and so she continued on toward the dorm.

McKinley University's Sierra dorm, an upperclassman dorm, loomed high above her, etched with elaborate stone carvings depicting the dorm's namesake in various stages of his life. The dorm stood devoid of activity—unsurprising, given the fact that _that_ time was in effect. Everyone in the dorm was probably safe, asleep and unaware in their coffins.

She pulled the dorm key out of her pocket, shoving it into the door and letting herself in.

"You're late."

Rachel dropped her bag, eyes darting about wildly. The door slammed shut behind her.

From behind the mahogany greeting desk, a young girl smiled at her. Her eyes burned a vivid, dark red, cutting through the darkness. Short, shaggy red hair clashed against pale white skin. "I've been waiting a long time for you."

"I…" Rachel looked about. "I didn't know other people could…"

"Stay awake during _that_ time?" the girl intoned. That horrid smile remained stretched across her lips. "Oh yes, you'll find quite a lot of people here in Lima can stay awake. I'm just one of them."

The girl snapped her fingers, a bright flash engulfing Rachel's vision. When she opened her eyes again, the girl was gone. A single file of deep, burnished red leather lay on the face of the desk.

"Now if you want to proceed…" Rachel whipped her head forward, jumping as she found the girl before her once more, grinning. The girl pointed to the document. "You need to sign that."

"What is it?" Rachel asked, turning her attention back to the girl.

"Are you afraid I'm here to trick you?" The girl chuckled. "Always so careful. Don't worry, it's a document that simply states you'll take full responsibility for your actions. You know… the usual stuff."

Swallowing, Rachel stepped up to the counter, flipping open the folder. A single sheet of cream paper lay inside, "_CONTRACT"_ written in bold letters across the top.

'_I accept full responsibility for any and all actions in this coming year.'_

A simple enough document… an easy promise to make. Probably one of those stupid dorm contracts her mother told her she needed to sign.

Rachel took out a pen from her bag, signing her name in neat cursive.

Flipping the folder shut, she handed it to the girl with a nod. "Is that sufficient?"

The girl chuckled, nodding. Holding the folder to her chest, the girl stepped back, further into the shadows. "Remember: no one can escape time, it delivers us all to the same end."

Darkness began to chew at the edges of the girl's skin, swallowing her. The terrible grin played about the edges of her lips. "You can't plug your ears and cover your eyes."

Her hand reached forth, stretching out toward Rachel. Red eyes glowed as vibrantly as freshly spilt blood. "…And so it begins."

"WHO'S THERE?!"

Rachel hurried twisted, eyes widening.

Black irises bore fiercely into her. A young woman stood paces away, dressed in shorts and a sweatshirt. Black hair cascaded down her shoulders, wet from the shower.

The woman's hand trembled at her holster, hand grasping the butt of the pistol nestled into the leather. "Who are you, I said?!"

"I'm… I'm a student here," Rachel replied, lifting her hands up to calm the hysterical woman. "I'm due to move in here, but the train arrived late from the city."

"Bullshit!" The woman hissed. "I wasn't told about any… anyone moving in!" She moved to pull the gun out.

"Santana, stop!" A stern voice thundered throughout the room.

The dorm lights flickered into awareness and darkness was dispelled as _that_ hour ended.

The woman swore as her hand flew away from the pistol.

Another woman descended down the stairwell, dressed in fine linen trousers and a button down shirt. Shaggy gold hair lay tucked behind delicate, silver pierced ears. The stranger's milk white skin glowed in the dorm's dim light. She descended the stairs gracefully, feet barely making a sound against the carpet. She came to stand beside her dorm mate, hazel eyes burning into Rachel's nervous eyes. A blood red band, marked "S.E.E.S," wrapped about her arm.

"I was sure you'd arrive earlier," the stranger said, voice a soft, smoky note against Rachel's ear. She nodded, continuing. "Quinn Fabray. I live here in Sierra hall."

She nodded toward the other woman. "That's Santana Lopez."

"You knew she'd be coming Fabray?" Santana hissed, eyes narrowing. "Who's she?"

"A transfer student. They couldn't clear out a room in the main dorms quick enough to accommodate her. She'll be transferred once they're finished cleaning it out," Quinn explained. "Until then, there's nothing we can do, Santana."

"Rachel Berry," Rachel provided, bowing her head. "Pleased to meet you."

"Is it a good idea for her to be here, Fabray?" Santana hissed beneath her breath.

"We'll have to see, won't we, _Lopez_?" Quinn replied. She turned her attention back to Rachel. "It's fairly late. The moving team brought some of your things over. You can unpack what you need tomorrow, until then… why don't you settle down for the night and sleep?"

"Uh… thank you," Rachel said sheepishly. "Where is my room located…?"

"I'll take you there right now," Quinn offered. She turned and began ascending the stairs. "Follow me."

Rachel lifted her bag, scrambling to catch up to Quinn.

"This is a co-ed dorm, the floors alternate between men and women. You'll be on the third floor with Santana and me." They ignored the door at the first landing, continuing up the stairs. "If you lose your key you'll have to pay a fine. You're not allowed on a boys' floor after midnight. Doors must be open when men are on the floor."

Quinn pushed open the next door on the second landing, holding it open for Rachel. They continued past the floor lounge and down the hall. "Your room's at the very end, across from mine and next door to Mercedes'."

As they reached the end, Quinn turned on her heel clasping her hands behind her back. "Any questions?"

"No, no, it's quite… clear," Rachel nodded. She paused for a moment. "Why did Santana have a gun?"

"Personal protection," Quinn supplied swiftly. "We've had a rash of theft on campus, so student counsel's been giving them away. They're not actually guns—just a deterrent. Pull the trigger, it discharges a harmless bit of smoke and a bit of a pop. Long enough for you to get away from an assailant."

Quinn squared her shoulders. "Anything _else?"_

'_Who's the girl who was here earlier?'_ The question played on Rachel's lips for a moment before she shook her head. "No. Thank you for your help."

"Don't hesitate to ask for any more assistance if need be," Quinn said. A gentle smile made its way cross her lips as harsh hazel eyes gentled. "Goodnight to you, Rachel."

The next morning, she started at McKinley. The day had been fairly uneventful—syllabus after syllabus in each of her assigned classes. She'd been overjoyed to reunite with Noah again during lunch.

"I can't believe it's you, Rach," he'd smiled, pressing her into a hug. "It's been so many fucking years, I'd thought I'd never see you again."

"I'm glad to be home too, Noah," Rachel returned the embrace. "It's good to see you too."

After class, Noah insisted on taking her to lunch. They needed to catch up with each other, he said.

"I need to know why in the HELL you'd come back here after living in glorious New York for ten years," he shouldered his bag after history lecture, grinning at her. "A city slicker like you usually stays in the city. There isn't any coming back to the boonies unless there's a good reason."

They spent some time together at the local mall, whiling away the hours catching up.

Night fell by the time she made her way back to Sierra, a grin etched across her face as she recalled one of Noah's jokes.

She threw quick "hellos" to Santana and Quinn before bounding up the stairs to her room. After changing into sweats and a tank, Rachel went about unpacking several of her boxes—school books and desk supplies she'd most likely need. She didn't bother unpacking anything else—her dorm transfer would go through soon, according to Quinn.

That night, when _that_ hour came, she swore she could… _hear_ something outside. She left her bed and flicked open the curtains, staring out into the courtyard.

…_Nothing_. Nothing but the brick paved walkway and the oak trees about the dorm. She marked herself paranoid.

'_That girl said there are far more people active during the hour here,'_ Rachel thought to herself as she pulled the covers over her body. She closed her eyes. '_I shouldn't worry… it was just… one of the other students walking across campus.'_

She should have listened to her instincts.

Though several nights came and went without any incident, that gnawing sense of something _wrong_ would not leave her. It clawed at her senses, burning at her mind during lecture and eating her attention during hangout sessions with Noah.

There was something amiss in Lima, Oho, and Rachel had a strange feeling Quinn and Santana knew something about it.

The guns were more significant than Quinn wanted her to believe they were, Rachel was sure. After nightfall, those pistols were always holstered and ready to be drawn—Santana, to her thigh, and Quinn about her shoulder. Around _that_ hour, Rachel often heard her dorm mates leave the building, though she could not see which direction they went from her window.

Strange dreams began to plague Rachel's sleep. Memories of a blue room, of falling, falling, falling many stories, of watching a clock spin forward in endless, crooked arcs… a long-nosed man, an amber-eyed woman, of a shining blue key.

All these things must have been connected.

On her fourth night in Ohio, something finally happened.

Rachel was shaken awake as the dorm rumbled. The walls swayed to and fro, nearly buckling under the force of the quake.

Rachel pushed herself out of bed, throwing her curtains open. The full moon loomed, large and foreboding on the horizon, lost in a mist of swirling white clouds. She could see nothing still—though the trees swayed and the dorm shook once more. Rachel steadied herself against the wall, gritting her teeth.

"Rachel, Rachel, are you awake?!" Quinn's voice, laced with panic, echoed through the door as she banged on the door. "I'm coming in right now, I'm sorry!"

Quinn burst into the room, swearing fiercely. She slammed the door, slumping against it. She panted heavily, eyes screwed shut. A trickle of blood oozed from a deep gash ripping a jagged line across her nose.

The ever present gun was holstered to Quinn's shoulder, along with a short bow and a quiver of arrows. Quinn's eyes snapped open, locking on Rachel's alarmed features. She pushed herself up from the door, striding toward the closet.

"Put on some shoes, we need to get moving," she pulled a box from the closet, throwing off the lid and pulling out a long, silk covered bundle.

Rachel hurriedly threw on the nearest pair of shoes along with a thin grey sweater. As she turned, Quinn pressed something cool into her hand. She looked down, startled to see the hilt of a blade—a rapier—in her grasp

"I hope you won't have to use it, but it's better safe than sorry," Quinn said grimly. She threw the door open, grabbing Rachel by the hand and pulling her out of the room and up the stairs.

"Wh-where are we going?" They turned the corner, continuing past the third and fourth floors.

"We can't go down—the only way to go is up," Quinn responded. "If we get to the roof, we might be able to hold them off with the door."

"_Them?" _Rachel questioned.

"You don't want to know," Quinn threw open the fifth floor door, continuing past the lounge and up another set of stairs.

Quinn slammed the last door open, letting Rachel enter before slamming it closed once more. She shoved her key into the door and engaged the lock, panting.

"Th-that should hold them off," Quinn muttered.

The building shuttered and groaned once more. A terrible howl pierced through the air as the sound of crushed steel and shattering glass echoed through the air.

A large, black tendril appeared at the edge of the building, crushing the roof's sturdy stone edge like clay.

Quinn's eyes widened in alarm. She grabbed her bow from its holster, drawing an arrow from her quiver and nocking it fluidly. "Behind me, Rachel, now!"

The creature pulled itself over the edge and onto the roof, groaning brokenly. Its body was an amalgamation of black, writhing shadows. They licked across the white granite like hungry maggots, leaving behind crimson pools of blood in their wake. A pale, porcelain mask carved in the shape of an agonized man's face covered rotting features. The beast towered above them, Quinn barely a quarter of its size. An odor of rotting flesh and decaying blood permeated the air.

Rachel gagged, pressing a hand across her nostrils. She trembled as the creature advanced upon them, hand tightening on her rapier.

Quinn's eyes, now a fierce, burnished gold, never left the creature. She sent several arrows flying, drawing them fluidly from her quiver as she stepped forward.

The thing gave a howl of annoyance, bringing its massive arms above its head, intending to crush Quinn beneath its fists.

Quinn dodged fluidly to the right, rolling into a crouch, bow and arrow poised at the beast. She shot off several more arrows, jumping fluidly from side to side, avoiding several swipes of the demon's claws.

Quinn holstered her bow and pulled a dagger from her boot. She ran forward, shouting as she lifted it above her head, prepared to sink it into the creature's shoulder.

The writhing forms on the creature's body burst forth suddenly, forming another limb. It pounded Quinn in the chest, sending her flying across the rooftop and straight into the wall beside the door.

"Quinn!" Rachel shouted. She rushed toward Quinn's crumpled form, shoes slipping in blood spatter.

"Stop!" Quinn shouted.

"Wh-what?!" Rachel skidded to a halt.

"Don't get in the way," Quinn pushed herself up on her knees. "You won't be able to make a dent!" She trembled, coughing up blood as she drew her pistol from her shoulder holster, putting the muzzle of the gun to her forehead

"What are you doing?!" Rachel began running forward again, reaching out. "Don't try to-."

Once more, the tendrils shot forth from the creature, grabbed Quinn tight in its grasp and throwing her across the roof. She landed near a quarry of crushed stone, arm hanging off of the edge of the building, eyes lost beneath a curtain of blood stained gold bangs. The pistol tumbled from Quinn's grasp, falling with a dull "clack."

"QUINN!" Rachel screamed. She raced forward, clumsily dodging the creatures blows as she skidded across the roof. She swung clumsily at the claws of shadow, rapier clanging uselessly against it.

As she turned her back on the creature, reaching out a hand to spirit Quinn away from the edge, the creature pounded her in the back, sending her sliding across the roof.

The stone chaffed and burned her skin, ripping clothing as she traveled. Rachel grunted back a scream of pain as she buried her rapier into the ground, slowing her momentum.

Her chest throbbed as she came to a stop, eyes closing in pain.

As she opened her lids slowly, her vision flickered about the edges. Quinn's pistol lay inches from her fingers, glistening in a pool of crimson blood.

Rachel reached for it weakly, fingers curling about the grip. She winced as she pushed herself up, placing herself between Quinn and the beast.

The beast howled, trapping her between itself and the edge of the building.

'_How am I supposed to defeat this?'_ Rachel wondered, trembling. Sweat dripped down her forehead, mingling with the blood about her mouth. '_If I don't do something… we'll die._

'_I can't die here,' _Rachel shook her head. '_I promised myself I would live for my Dad… for Papa. I can't just stand here and let it happen.'_

She lifted the gun to her temple. The metal felt cold against the skin of her temple.

Her vision flashed, everything slowed. She could only hear the sound of her breathing and her heart pounding in her chest.

For a brief moment, the mysterious girl came to mind, reaching out to her, offering something.

"_Go on," _her voice echoed in Rachel's mind. "_Take it. My power… everything we are… everything __**I**__ am is yours."_

The world stood silent as Rachel reached out… Reached out and _took_.

At that instant, her hand steadied and a smile curled on her lips.

"Per-." Her finger squeezed the trigger.

"So-." The metal began to scrape…

"…Na." The trigger engaged.

Rachel's eyes flashed red, the smirk widening on her features as _something_ pushed its way from her mind. The sound of shattered glass echoed through the air and a flash of blinding light ripped the darkness away.

Shards of light cascaded around her, the pistol smoking in her hand.

"_Thou art I,"_ a deep, rumbling voice tore through the silence, booming into existence. "_And I am thou."_

The shards began to assemble… to reform into something _else._ Massive, piston-like arms and legs, shone silver in the moonlight. A body, formed of solid gold and with a single, chrome plated speaker in the center, formed. A harp in the shape of a circle materialized on the _thing's_ back, along with a red scarf about the neck. The creature's face was last to appear, a mirror image of Rachel's own, coated in steel with two gleaming red eyes peering forth. "_From the Sea of thy Soul I come."_

The silvery figure threw its head back, howling. "_I am Orpheus, Master of Strings."_

The being, _Orpheus_, lunged forward, grabbing its harp from its back to bash the demon across the head. The blow connected sharply, throwing the enemy back and sending it crashing against the wall.

Orpheus' eyes glowed magnificently as it sent forth several bursts of fire, exploding across the creature's body.

The demon roared in agony, writhing as it fought to drag itself away from Orpheus.

Rachel felt energy drain from her as Orpheus drew its harp back once more, rushing forward to finish the enemy in one last blow.

The demon sent a sudden spray of shadow across the field, jarring Orpheus in the chest.

Rachel screamed, feeling the pain rip across her own body as she pressed a hand to her chest. She prepared to give the shining being the last of her energy, when something _pulsed_ inside her.

White hot knives _pierced_ her skull, making Rachel _shout_ in agony. Her hands went to her head, clawing at her hair as the pain seared her nerves.

Orpheus _writhed _in unison, mouth opening in a silent scream. Suddenly, white gloved hands appeared at the edges of its lips, _pulling_ it apart from the inside out.

A new creature _clawed_ its way out of Orpheus, ripping it apart, splattering bits of silver and gold _everywhere_.

The new creature, chained to several tablets with silent gods carved into its surface, lifted its chained, masked head back and hollered in fury. It panted angrily, reaching into its own _chest_ and pulling out a blade—long, sharp and covered in blood.

This new creature launched itself forth toward the demon. The creature reached the enemy's arm and _ripped_ it off, crushing it beneath its fingers.

The sword in its hand jangled with chains as it lifted it skyward and brought it down, slicing the demon in half.

But this was not enough… no, the creature was not content. It brought its blade down endlessly, shrieking horridly as blood spattered from its downed foe.

Quinn's eyes opened slowly as she lifted herself into a sitting position. Her eyes widened as she saw the _creature_ slaughtering the shadow beast, unable to contain its rage. Shadow limbs thrashed about the roof, melting into pools of blood.

The creature turned its gaze upon Quinn, breathing harshly, a terrible rattling breath as though choking against the chains laced about its throat and the muzzle crossing its hooded features. It lifted its sword skyward, letting out a last bloodcurdling shriek before it faded about the edges and gave way to Orpheus.

Orpheus' image flickered for a moment before bursting into shards, fading back into Rachel where she stood, grasping her head in agony.

"What…" Quinn swallowed, shaking her head in disbelief. "What _was_ that…? _Two_ from _one? _I've… I've never…"

Rachel's hands slowly lowered. Her arms shook at her sides as she slowly pivoted on her heel, looking at Quinn blankly. A dull smile worked its way to her lips.

"O-oh…" Rachel's voice was a mere whisper. "…Y-you're… alright… Good."

The pistol clattered to the floor as Rachel fell to her knees. She stared toward the moon, blood dripping from her mouth. "…It's so… b…ri…"

She seized, dropping to the floor, spasms wracking her body.

"Rachel!" She could hear Quinn shout. Something shook her about the shoulders. "Come on, Rachel, wake up!"

"God, don't die, you can't die yet," she heard Quinn mutter. "Santana, Mercedes, Finn, Mr. Schue, get up here, NOW! She needs medical attention!"

…Darkness closed about the last dregs of consciousness…

She heard nothing else.

* * *

"Ah, you're beginning to wake."

Rachel opened her eyes, vision beginning to clear about the edges.

Blue… Nothing, but deep, dark blue.

As her senses set in, she felt herself sitting in a chair, clothed in a pair of jeans, a collared, blue shirt, one of her vests cinched about her body, her favorite black skinny tie fastened about her neck.

She lifted her head to see the strange, long-nosed _man_ from her dreams sitting in front of her in an upholstered chair, a table draped in dark blue… _velvet_ spread across its surface. His hands were curled beneath his chin, his eyes wide open and a grin on his face.

Beside him, a woman with dark gold eyes, clothed in a soft, button down dress smiled at her. Her hair was an _unnatural_ silver.

"Welcome to the Velvet Room, Rachel," the man greeted, his voice thin and reedy.

The clock on the wall behind him continued forward, ever spinning. Flashes of light lit the ornate bars behind him as the room climbed… up?

"My name is Igor," he continued, "I'm delighted to make your acquaintance." He turned his hand toward the woman beside him. "This is Elizabeth. She's a resident of this place, as I am."

"Where am I?" Rachel asked, looking about alarmed. "I… I remember being on the rooftop. I remember that _thing_ that came out of me." She paused. "Am I dead?"

Igor laughed, shaking his head. "No, no, no. This place exists between dream and reality, between mind and matter…" He waved his hand. On the table, a familiar red folder appeared, unfurling and opening. On the page, lay a familiar signature.

"Only those who have signed this contract can enter this place," Igor explained. "Therefore, you are our most distinguished _guest._

"It's been so many decades since we last had a guest, I'm so _pleased,"_ Igor grinned. "You are destined to hone your ability, and you will need my help to do so.

"The only requirement is that you abide by your contract," Igor waved his hand at the document. "Do you understand, Rachel?"

"Yes… I, I think so," Rachel nodded. She looked about. "...Is… this a dream?"

"In the real world, you are fast asleep, recovering from your ordeal," Igor explained. "Quite some time has passed."

"And that thing that answered me?" Rachel questioned. "That _power?"_

"That _thing_ you summoned, Orpheus, is a Persona," Igor replied. "It is a manifestation of your psyche."

"My… psyche?"

"It may take some time for you to understand," Igor sat forward in his chair. "A Persona is a facet of your personality that surfaces as you react to external stimuli. It is a mask that protects you as you brave hardships.

"Your ability is still very weak," Igor continued, waving his hand. The contract disappeared. "The ability will evolve as you develop connections with others. The greater your connections, the more Personas you will summon."

"So I can summon more than one?" Rachel asked.

"Yes, it is an ability unique to you," Igor nodded. "A _wild card_, you might say. It is empty, yet possesses _infinite _possibilities.

"A great darkness is rising before you, Rachel," Igor continued. "Your power is the key to combating that darkness. Go forth and make connections. When you need my help, you will come here of your own accord. I will aid you."

He paused, lifting his head and stared into the distance. He nodded slightly, as though to some unknown force before turning his attention back to Rachel.

"Time marches on in your world," Igor stated. "It is time for you to return home." He lifted his hand, waving it before him.

* * *

Intense, searing white light blinded Rachel. She lifted her hands to block herself from its rays.

"Remember to return here when you need my help!"

Everything went dark.

The first thing she sensed as she woke up: the smell of antiseptic flooding her nostrils and the intense grogginess settled about her mind.

Sheets scratched at her skin as she struggled to move her arm, her muscles protesting against the action.

"Rachel!" someone whispered. The sound of a chair being pushed, its legs scraping against tile. "You're waking up."

Rachel let out a soft groan, attempting to push herself into a sitting position.

"Hold on, hold on." A soft hand steadied her back, then switched to support her arm. As she pushed herself, pillows settled at the base of her spine before the stranger's hand moved away again. "…Better?"

"Yes," Rachel's voice came as a hoarse hiss. She forced her eyes open, blinking against the grit beneath her lids.

Her vision focused, taking in stark white walls. A monitor beeped steadily beside her, an IV line settled into the back of her right hand.

Quinn smiled at her, seated in one of the stiff, uncomfortable hospital chairs. A bandage wound its way across her forehead, a pad of gauze taped about her right cheek. Her left arm hung uselessly in a blue sling, fastened about her neck.

Rays of light from the sun shone through the hospital blinds, coloring Quinn's short locks a shimmering gold.

As she allowed her eyes to wander, Rachel noticed that, for the first time, Quinn wore a _dress_. A simple, form-fitting white sundress. By far, the least ornate and least formal ensemble she'd seen Quinn wear.

'_And she's beautiful_,' Rachel thought numbly, taking in Quinn's soft, relieved smile.

Her heart pounded in her chest.

"You're finally up," Quinn's voice was gentle and warm. Her eyes, a fierce gold in the heat of battle, were now soft, emerald green with flecks of amber. "Good, we were all worried about you."

"How long've I been out?" Rachel asked, shaking herself from her daydream.

"Four days," Quinn chuckled. "You're quite the sleeping champion."

"Well, it's not every day a girl runs from a demon, shadow spider and shoots herself in the head to summon more monsters to save her ass," Rachel grunted, attempting to smile. She winced as her split lip warred with the movement.

"No, it isn't, is it?" Quinn laughed. Her face straightened into a serious line. "I wanted to… To thank you for saving me. I got careless on the roof and hesitated to summon my Persona. You wouldn't've ended up in the hospital if I hadn't gotten cocky and summoned it sooner."

"It's alright," Rachel nodded. "You tried your best, I think. We couldn't've predicted that _thing_ would change the way it did."

"I knew," Quinn sighed, shaking her head. "I've dealt with those monsters for years. Summoning for a Shadow that large should've been common sense. I put _your_ life at risk and I apologize for it."

"It's already forgiven," Rachel waved hand. She flinched at the movement. "But those creatures. Shadows, you called them? Are they commonplace around here?"

"Yes," Quinn nodded. "They've been here for as long as I can remember. They appear during the Dark Hour to gorge themselves on those outside their coffins."

"The Dark Hour?" Rachel questioned.

Quinn bit her lip for a moment, tapping her fingers against the edge of the bed. She nodded to herself. She focused back on Rachel. "You've noticed that there's a time after midnight… that still, unmoving hour?"

"Yes," Rachel crossed her arms. "I… I don't remember when it started. Maybe it was there before I remember it, but it's when the lights die, everything goes quiet, and people change, right?"

"Exactly," Quinn replied. "We call it the Dark Hour… a period of time between midnight and 1 AM. A realm of time that should not exist. Normal people are usually safe inside their coffins during this time—safe from Shadows that roam the city, looking for prey.

"But occasionally there are people with the power to stay conscious during the Dark Hour," Quinn folded her legs, leaning back in her chair. "If Shadows find them, they devour them and form new shadows, forever multiplying by preying on the negative energies of their victims. Sometimes, though, there are people with the 'potential' to awaken to certain powers."

"Personas," Rachel murmured.

"Personas," Quinn nodded. "They can be forced from the mind with those guns—we call them evokers—and made to fight against Shadows. Everyone in Sierra dorm is a Persona user, dedicated to fighting shadows and safeguarding humanity."

"So my moving into your dorm wasn't a coincidence, was it?" Rachel asked, lifting her brow.

"We knew you had the Potential," Quinn affirmed. "Fabray Corp. resources, and with them, we seek out Persona users to organize against the Shadows. When we heard you were transferring to the university, we studied your track record. We knew you could stay awake during the Dark Hour but… we didn't know if you had the Potential."

"Were you going to tell me?"

"Yes, of course. We were supposed to approach you at the end of your week and see if you _did_ have the Potential. If you did, we would have offered you a place in our group. If you accepted, you'd be trained and put into combat. Refuse, we would send you to another dorm and protected you during the Dark Hour. Unfortunately," Quinn sighed, "the Shadows didn't cooperate. They overwhelmed one of our teammates and followed him back to the dorm… The rest, as you know, is history."

Rachel stared down at the sheets, bundling them between her fingers. "So those things _are_ native to this area. They never appeared during the Dark Hour in New York."

"That's probably how you managed to survive so long without your Persona," Quinn agreed. She paused a moment before continuing. "Your power… it's amazing. I've never seen anything quite like it."

"The multiple Persona thing?" Rachel inquired.

"Yes, no one else in the dorm has that ability," Quinn's voice was filled with some sort of awe. "The amount of attacks you were able to pull off before you lost consciousness… I've never seen such raw power before."

They sat silent for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"We're alike, you and I," Quinn, looking down at her hands, broke the silence.

"Pardon?" Rachel asked, confused.

"Before you came here, I read your bio," Quinn continued, looking away guiltily. "Your parents are gone. The accident ten years ago at the lab, right?"

"…Yes," Rachel replied, closing her eyes and turning away.

"I lost my mother in that accident," Quinn explained, voice laced with melancholy. "She was in the lab—she was a scientist working on that same project as your Father." Quinn swallowed harshly. "…They never found her body, either."

Rachel's jaw clenched, her hands shaking as they curled into fists.

"When I found out, I felt like I made a huge breech of privacy," Quinn continued. "I'm sorry I read your file… I'm sorry I know something so personal. I wanted to make it even—now you know something about me that's just as intimate."

She placed her hand softly on Rachel's, working her way past curled digits to hold it steady in her own. "I know bridging this awkward little gap between us is going to be strange—I know so much about you and you know so little about me, but I'd like to be friends. You can ask me about anything, anything at all… It's fair game."

She squeezed Rachel's hand once more. "If you ever want to talk about any of it, I'm here for you, Rachel."

Brown eyes snapped open to meet hazel, communicating silently. Rachel searched for any sign of dishonesty, of misgivings, and found none in Quinn's features. Just a warm, genuine, open, and honest look that settled about every facet of her being.

Gently lifting her hand from the bed, Quinn slowly stood from her chair, stretching. She smiled down at Rachel, bowing her head slightly.

"I need to go tell everyone you've woken up. We have a lot of work to do before you come home," Quinn smiled. "Don't overexert yourself, get plenty of rest, alright?"

"Alright," Rachel said, nodding.

"Good," Quinn stepped over to the door. "Get some shut eye."

Quinn's hand closed about the knob, twisting it to open.

"Quinn?"

Quinn froze, turning back to Rachel's bed.

A genuine smile spread across Rachel's lips.

"Thank you for your help as well," she lifted her hand in farewell. "Take care and… be safe on your way home. Try not to go fight angry Shadows to save swooning maidens anytime soon."

"Thank you, Rachel," Quinn chuckled. "I will certainly try not to. Get well soon."

As the door closed, Rachel dropped her hand and fell backwards in bed, sighing. The smile still curled about her lips as she recalled Quinn's soft words.

She lifted her gaze skyward as she laughed, running her hands over her face. "God, Papa, and Dad. If you knew what just happened to me, I'd think I lived out enough of your lives in that one night."

As Rachel continued to laugh, she failed to notice the crimson butterfly, drifting past the window with a graceful, dancing flutter of its wings.

The faintest traces along the windows pane, the mysterious, smiling girl gazed at Rachel from the reflection the sun made against the glass.

_'And so it begins.'_

* * *

**A/N:** Vastly different from my usual stuff, but hopefully you enjoyed it.

Let me know what ya think, please. I'd really appreciate it!


End file.
